Mendoza
by dmnq8
Summary: Tiny collection of scenes regarding the character I introduced in Take Me, who is the subject of my first original novel. Requested by Garmiet. Disclaimers in my profile.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Takes place directly after that first meeting with Mendoza in Neji's kitchen, in chapter 22 (20-part 3) of _Take Me_.

These little snippets are meant to shed light on Mendoza as he's seen through other people's eyes. As my first original novel (the one I'm currently writing) will be about Mendoza and his love interest, I thought this would be a good way to familiarize readers with him.

Enjoy! ^^

* * *

 **The Look**

Sasuke and Naruto exchanged a glance.

But while Sasuke's was still marveling at the experience of Mendoza, Naruto's was screwed into an expression of suspicion and anger. "Upstairs," he snapped.

Sasuke followed him meekly enough. It gave him a chance to adjust the erection that persisted in remaining.

Once in their room, Naruto slammed the door, turned, and pinned Sasuke with a glare. He was in time to see Sasuke fan himself a few times by tugging on the front of his shirt. Not only that, but the man seemed lost in thought. He could only imagine what those thoughts were about; his eyes dropped to the tell-tale bulge straining Sasuke's trousers.

Sasuke dropped into their armchair and looped one leg over the arm. As inelegant a sprawl as he'd ever seen him in. Life with a commoner was rubbing off, Naruto noted. "Goodness," Sasuke said. "Is everyone you know so impossibly large?"

"Everyone? Who the bloody hell are you referring to?"

"Bee. Ei….Mendoza."

"The _hell_ are you-"

"Then there's you, of course." Sasuke's eyes finally focused on him. "One can't forget how large _you_ are. But it seems most of your friends are cut from the same mold. I say, what _is_ that about?"

 _Bastard dares to mention him besides._ "Mendoza is no friend of mine." He stalked to the chair in a slow march of purest jealousy. Folded his arms. Raked Sasuke's casual pose from head to toe. "What I'd like to know is what that look was about."

"What look?"

"The look you gave Mendoza."

"I'm not aware of any such look taking place."

"Oho. So _this,"_ he rested the toe of one boot on Sasuke's crotch, "isn't for Mendoza, then?"

Sasuke's jaw tightened. The feel of that boot was sinfully delicious against his arousal. He shifted, pressing against the sole. "I don't know what you mean." His voice was suddenly low and smooth as silk.

"Hmph." Naruto studied the lowered lashes. The way Sasuke looked up at him through them, chin down. It was the look he wore whenever he was in petticoats and lace. Though the garments were absent now the look alone had an answering erection springing into place. _The man is goading me,_ he thought. _Knows I'm jealous and reveling in it._ It struck him then, and not just because of the cock beneath his foot, that Sasuke was in a fever of need to be taken. _Because of Mendoza._ His man was hot as a result of Mendoza. Glory, but he hated that Spaniard. Always slinging his cock where it didn't belong. Looking at Sasuke's desire now was like picking up Mendoza's leavings.

"Allow me to refresh your memory," Naruto hissed, grinding his boot against Sasuke. "That pisser came into the kitchen and your jaw hit your chest. More, you and Gaara each couldn't seem to keep your eyes in your heads. I know lust, Sasuke. I recognize the signs. It's a look I've only ever seen you give to me. Your looks, _all_ of you, belong to _me."_ He gave a final press of his boot. "So I repeat. What. Was that. About?"

Sasuke had to put his head back against the chair on a moan, that boot was so brutal, but the next moment he looked up again. The boot pressed harder. Blood filled his cock, his ass. He was tight and swollen everywhere, and leaking from both ends. "Well, now. You seem to already know. I'll not deny the man is handsome. Beautiful, even. Am I to pretend I don't have eyes?"

"You can keep those eyes on business that concerns you!"

Sasuke dropped his gaze to the prominence at Naruto's crotch. He moistened his lips in greed. "Like this?" He brushed a hand against the bulge.

"For a start."

Sasuke was on his knees at once, Naruto's placket undone, and the red, straining meat in his fist. "Gladly-"

Naruto buried a hand in his hair and yanked his head back a moment before his dripping, panting mouth could surround him. "And Sasuke?"

"Yes." His voice was all impatient breath.

"If ever again I see evidence of your lust for another man, I won't take it kindly. Not at all." He jerked himself forward, burying his cock to the root in Sasuke's throat.


	2. First Meeting

**First Meeting**

 _New York City, 1895_

The bar was new to him, but far from new. Filthy floor, all of two candles illuminating the place. The rest was smoky darkness. That was best, as there wasn't a single person of natural appetites on the premises.

He chose a corner, eyeballed some greasy dock rat out of his chair, and sat. Women were perfectly safe in holes like this. And, as such establishments were few and far between, they were always crowded. The barmaids in employ did a brisk and roaring trade, safe from harassment. He signaled one to bring him ale and sat back to view this night's pickings. He hoped they were good. Last piece of arse he'd fucked had been lice-ridden.

He didn't drink. A beer allowed him the pretense of doing something other than exactly what he was doing. It was when he finally lifted his mug to take the obligatory sip that he saw him. Over at the bar, second to last stool.

Attractive. In a boyish, wet behind the ears sort of way. Not that he was any advanced age himself, at twenty-one. But he knew such a look of wide-eyed innocence had never graced his features. He studied him awhile. Saw that he wasn't drinking either. Quaffing nuts. Something going on with him. Nervous. Jittery. Too many smiles. Men came up to him periodically, drawn by the youthful charm. He could imagine the exchange. Same exchange that was _de_ _rigueur_ in all such places.

' _Say. Interest you in a drink?'_

' _Don't mind if I do.'_

' _How's about we get out of here instead?'_

To which there was no reply necessary but to get up and follow your new friend to his alley of choice. Sometimes those few words weren't even required. A look sufficed. A single prolonged glance, answered by one of equal intensity, and then there were two less patrons in the bar.

That wasn't happening here, though. People were going up to the boy, and words were definitely being exchanged…but then the men were turning away in disgust. Sometimes with a shake of their heads or a look of contempt thrown over their shoulders. He tried, but could think of nothing that would turn all prospects away with such consistency. Not one of them took the boy. A simple refusal wouldn't bring on disgust. Besides, the boy was actively luring people with that smile. Soon the entire bar was aware of him. Those who'd approached and left were whispering furiously to any who would listen. Before he could hear the tale second hand, he rose and moved toward the bar. He'd get the story from the horse's mouth. No matter what the boy said, he intended to have him. Kid had a nice, healthy look about him.

He was wending his way between the tables, eyes on the prize, so it was impossible to miss some mountain of a man sidling up to his target. The skinny geezer on the last stool was told to leave so that this beast could park his meaty hind parts on it, lean an elbow on the bar, and fix the boy with a stare.

He pulled up short.

The beast, whoever he was, glanced at him and flashed a grin of triumph before focusing his attention on the boy once more.

He understood several things just then. Chief among these was that while he'd been eyeing the boy, so had this beast, but the beast has also been looking at _him_ while he'd looked at the boy. That wasn't what drew him forward. The boy was no longer of interest. It was the smile the beast had flashed.

He leaned in on the boy's other side in time to hear, "One hundred. Per night."

The beast frowned. " _Que? Quieres cuánto?"_ Then he blinked, recovering from his surprise. "This is too much. No whore is worth so much." His eyes moved up and down the boy's slim frame. " _You_ are not worth so much."

"Neither am I a whore," the boy said. "But my mother's sick. I need the money. If you could take me for three nights-"

He'd seen enough. The boy was running a con he'd never heard before, but then new cons were born every night in this city. Dismissing him from his mind, he stared at the beast, who, he found, was staring right back. Without a further word to the boy, the beast gave an inquisitive tip of his head. He answered with a nod and followed him out of the bar.

-oOo-

For a wonder, he wasn't led into an alley. He could both see and hear that several men who'd lately graced the bar were getting busy in those alleys, side by side of each other. Such was the case around this part of town. The beast stopped in the doorway of a closed shop. A street lamp cast feeble illumination. Not enough for him to make out features. He hadn't been able to see him too well in the bar either. He knew the beast was large, and that his hair was dark. Beyond that, all he knew was that he was foreign. And that his smile was incredible.

He didn't fear violence, not even from one as big as this beast. "Got a name?"

"Mendoza. Chale Mendoza."

"I'm Neji."

"Ne…ji? Neji." He said it a few more times. " _Si._ My place?"

He nodded. Turned to follow him.

They weren't far from the wharves. Acrid smoke from steamships lent the fall night a ghostly air. Clanging of cranes and shouts from longshoremen drifted to them. The long, low bray of a foghorn. Clopping of horses where a few buggies passed over the cobblestones, even this late. The city never slept.

He was given his leisure to scrutinize Mendoza from his position two paces behind. Graceful. The kind of grace only certain men were capable of. At the bar, when they'd been leaning to either side of the boy, he'd gotten a look at one of Mendoza's hands. The nails were clean, which was what he'd been looking for, but the hand itself was large and callused. Accustomed to strenuous labor of some kind. He listened, but despite the hard soles of Mendoza's shoes, he could hear very little sound, if any, coming from his footfalls.

The man he was following was probably dangerous. He'd keep a sharp eye.

Mendoza went down to the wharves, passing between the many bustling people with the ease of familiarity. He went to one ship at anchor, and turned up the gangplank. Here, where there was more light, he was able to see a name in fancy white script on the hull. _Duquesa._ And that Mendoza had hair that curled to well past his shoulders in a ponytail.

There was one man stationed at the gangplank. A guard, he assumed. He'd nodded to Mendoza, but paid him no mind at all when he followed. He reached the deck in time to see Mendoza disappearing below.

* * *

Their final destination was a captain's cabin that was larger than the entire room he called home. Lush. Luxurious, even. Painted, of all things. He'd been on numerous ships, but had never seen a captain's cabin like this one. Red walls with black floral accents. Large bed with white linen edged in gold lace. Tasseled cushions of blue, purple, and yellow were strewn here and there. Carpet—carpet!—on the floor. Not a large carpet, but one he could tell cost a pretty penny. All browns and golden birds in the design. The obligatory desk and chair, and a large wardrobe completed the furnishings. Mendoza was at this wardrobe now, removing his coat to reveal that the width of his shoulders had nothing to do with the garment.

There was plenty of lantern light to see by. Mendoza's hair was black. Intensely so. The curls of his ponytail were fat and shiny and made little bouncing motions while Mendoza disrobed. He went closer as the shirt was also removed.

Mendoza looked over his shoulder at hearing the movement. Seeing no threat, he resumed putting his clothes in the wardrobe.

Neji stared. The back was broad and fair, rippling with muscle. But it was also crisscrossed with lash marks. Old. Slightly paler than Mendoza's skin. Numerous. And there was a brand on the back of his right shoulder. Some symbol he couldn't make out. This was pink, where all the other scars were white. His back narrowed to a waist lean in comparison but which was still thicker than his own.

Mendoza turned from the wardrobe, nude. At getting his first good look at Neji, his brows drew together. " _Aiyiyiyiyi._ Such _beauty!_ "

Neji was having similar thoughts. The old-fashioned bow Mendoza's hair was tied with was undone as he approached, the curls combed loose with thick fingers. That hair now framed a face that was impossible to look away from. Such deep blue eyes. Lantern jaw. Straight nose. High brow, but not too high or too broad. Perfection. "Jesus…" Close to, Mendoza smelled as his cabin did. Like cinnamon and other exotic spices. He jumped when Mendoza lifted a lock of his hair and held it to his nose.

" _Exquisito_ ," Mendoza breathed. " _Dime_ , Neji. Are you free?" This was asked as a hand lifted to push Neji's coat off.

Neji caught the hand before it could touch him. "I don't charge, if that's what you mean."

"I see you're a fighter. Rare, that is." He extracted his hand. Slowly, and deliberately put both hands on Neji's shoulders, beneath his coat, and pushed it off. "I mean is your heart free. Is it?" The coat slipped to the floor. Mendoza's hands were now at the buttons of Neji's shirt.

He fought the urge to push Mendoza's hands away. This was entirely too much familiarity. "Why?"

"Why." The shirt was open and Mendoza sucked in a breath, eyes glowing in appreciation. "I would not bed you if your heart belonged to another. We must be free, you and I, to fully enjoy ourselves… _ai_. This body. _Caramba_." He stepped close. Nosed along Neji's jaw.

"I don't…don't do love." He shivered. Whores never touched him like this.

Mendoza leaned back enough to look into his eyes. "Nervous. And tense. Why?"

"Usually bed whores. This…you… You're beautiful. And clean as a whistle, I can see, but I think I should go. You're asking some funny questions-"

"Stop. I will not hurt you."

The snort Neji gave made Mendoza laugh. A sound that raised the hairs all over Neji's body and had his cock hard in seconds. Rich and deep was that laugh.

"Never," Mendoza said when he'd calmed, "underestimate a man. Especially not one with the scars I carry. So. Will you stay or go?"

He ran his eyes down Mendoza's body. Thick thighs, heavy with the muscle that seemed to be present in every inch of the man. A cock so large it made him ache to taste it. He'd noticed it before, but now he stared. "Staying. But I don't receive."

"Neither do I." Mendoza seemed content to wait until this problem worked itself out, hands on hips. "You like what you see?"

"Oh yeah."

"Let me see you in turn. Your beauty cannot end with your eyes and hair."

Neji dropped his pants. No undergarments. Mendoza's cabin was warm, thanks to the brazier in the corner, but even so his flesh rose in goosebumps. He'd never had cause to be naked for sex. Exposing one's cock was enough to get the job done, with the added bonus of allowing one to escape quickly should authorities come looking down an alley.

" _Ave María,"_ Mendoza breathed. He came close again, slowly. Used one index finger on Neji's right shoulder to turn him around just as slowly. Traced the finger down his spine, over the crack of his ass. Lifted a double handful of the straight brown hair that grazed that ass and buried his face in it. Inhaled long and deep. " _Almendras. Dios. M_ _i corazón no puede tomar tu perfección_." His hands came around Neji's stiff body, still moving with non-threatening deliberation. He rested his chin on Neji's shoulder. " _Bien_. _Mira._ I will let you mount me. Tonight only. _Si?_ All right?" he added when he got no answer.

The feel of Mendoza along the entire length of his back was…indescribable. Never had he touched so much of a man. A revelation. So much hot skin, and that _cock._ He was hooked already. "Yes," he hissed. His head fell back against one beefy shoulder, savoring the sensation of being held. But only for a second. He turned, grabbed Mendoza's face, and kissed him hard.

Breathless, Mendoza pulled back and smiled. "Yes." He took Neji's hand and lifted it between them. Kissed the knuckles. "Come. Let us take pleasures."

Mendoza led him to the bed, where Neji freed his hand and shoved Mendoza onto the mattress. Heavy as he was, the thing remained intact as Mendoza twisted to land on his back. Neji spent several delicious moments taking in the man's splendor. "Fucking hell, I'm going to enjoy this. Just so you know? I've never, uh...satisfied myself before."

"I do not understand. You are a virgin?" Mendoza's eyes crinkled at the thought.

"Hardly. Just mean I've never gone at it for longer than a few minutes at a time. Never had this kind of setup." He glanced around the cabin. "All this privacy. And you, so clean and…yeah. I might take a while."

Mendoza threw his head back and roared. "Take days, _mi vida._ I assure you, this one can match you."

That was all the encouragement he needed.


End file.
